It was a night when the sound never really fell. Each ball sounded louder, each run weightier–and in the midst of it all was David Miller, who had a question mark which he had not ordered.
He had just walked in as the chase began to wobble. Delhi Capitals had to remain calm, yet the atmosphere on the ground was suspicious. You could feel it, some impatient fans fidgeting in their seats, the RCB fielders all of a sudden louder, sharper. Miller was no stranger here, or even lately. The memory lingered, as nearly as possible visible in the manner in which the field narrowed around him.
He began watchfully. Not trapped, but not flowing. Two sighers, a check at the scoreboard, and then a word or two to his partner. The equation, though, wasn’t waiting. Until the last over came, there was still work to be done in Delhi and RCB only seemed to be a step ahead. Still, hands on hips in the field, a smile or two lurking in–they could feel it.And yet. there was a change.
And yet… something shifted.
First ball of will – Miller swung his front leg and was on a straight. Clean. The clamour of the bat cut through all that, a six that, however, did not augment the runs but the atmosphere altogether. The dugout behind him sprang up, nearly in relief rather than rejoicing. A single shot and the equation was human again.
Following was the actual statement. Another six, this time with more power, more confidence. No stopping, no second guessing. Simply swing and connect. The crowd thus divided a minute or two before, now shouted in unison. You might have thought the pressure had been reversed–the shoulders of RCB had fallen rather slightly, the bowler had strolled on more slowly.
Miller, almost calmly, finished it. A demarcation, not imposed, but carefully. Game over. Delhi Capitals had drawn it back to the brink, and Miller stood a second, as long as he could keep his bat in, wetting it. No raving party – more of a subdued expression.
It was not a very long innings. Deliveries indeed, hardly any. However, in some cases, that is all that T20 cricket requires. Timing over volume. Presence over numbers. And, in these few moments, Miller wrote a new script that had been accumulating around him.
It was not only the shots but the clearness. No rush, no panic could be seen. Despite the falling game, he appeared to know when to go. That’s the narrow track that the finishers work on–just wait too long and you lose; just go too soon and everything is at stake. This time, he got it just right.
The victory was even greater than the points to the Delhi Capitals. In close pursues, faith is weak, and such a finish is one that sews it up again. Even when the line of handshakes had commenced the players in the dugout were on their feet – a sign of what it was.
What this finish alters to Delhi?
It is just a different energy of winning such games. Not at home, not governed at first – but hauled back by the doubt. Delhi will take that forward, particularly in games where the margins become narrow.
And to Miller the transition is even more personal. The discussion a couple of days ago was about lost opportunities and wilting finishes. It is now a question of rising to the occasion when it counts the most. Cricket does not necessarily provide you with such a fast turn around, but when it does, you have to seize.
He did. In silence, silently. Only three shots, one overhead, and a totally new ending.
